


Proper Due to the Spirits

by RideBoldlyRide



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: A Knight's tale is superb for quotes, Anger, F/M, I have been so freaking excited about this quote, I'm just being super careful, I'm just that kind of person, Make Up, Some innuendo, The answer is way too goddamn many., There's nothing explicit here, This is probably the mildest M you will ever come across, Zutara Quote Challenge, but i had to be cautious, how many challenges and exchanges can i do in a 2 month period?, jonetsu, lover's spat, zutara quote challenge 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RideBoldlyRide/pseuds/RideBoldlyRide
Summary: The Fire Lord and the Ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe usually make up a united front, but when they don't, spirits protect anyone who gets in between.A part of the Zutara Quote Challenge 2020, my first entry.This is probably the mildest of mild M's you're going to come across, but I just want to make sure....
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 126
Collections: Zutara Quote Challenge 2020





	Proper Due to the Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> "Do not shush me and spare him! Begone! Shoo!"   
> \- A Knight's Tale, Jocelyn

It wasn’t often that the two of them found each other at the opposite ends of a discussion. But when the Fire Lord had stood up, curled his hands into fists, and huffed out a puff of smoke, the Ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe had met him pace for pace. Just shy of a full battle, the two benders had stood, eyes glaring as the room had become sweltering, and all the tea and water sploshed upon table tops and robes. When the Fire Lord had finally ended the argument over the heads of the seated ministers, the ambassador stiffly bowed, met his eye and turned on her heel. 

She wasn’t sure where she was headed, but the needed call of water pulled at her fingertips. It led her.

Finally, she burst out of the doors of the palace, and sucked in a deep breath. Autumn was coming to the Fire Nation capital, and with it, a much needed reprieve from the oppressive summer heat. The dry, crisp air chapped her throat, but the cool air cleared her senses from the ever-present spices of the Palace. It washed over her. The curdled anger of the moment smoothed in the soft breeze. There was a scent she hadn’t expected that carried on the wind. 

Ember apples? 

Slowly her eyes opened, taking in the scene before her. A calm pond stretched out lazily before her, it’s edges trimmed and manicured. Precisely placed trees of varying sorts lined it’s stoned shoreline. Branching out from there, lines of hedges hid what she assumed to be shrines. A singular gardner shuffled among the foliage. 

Instantly, her shoulders dropped, a sense of calm settled into her bones, and she sighed. Taking a moment, she rounded the pond, listening to the soft gurgle of bubblers, the occasional blip of a koi gulping at the surface, the gentle breeze shuffling the leaves. Even at the eve of autumn, this small oasis was alight with color. As she rounded the pond, she noticed that the hedges did, in fact, hold the small shrines she had expected.

Taking a step into one of the alcoves, she observed the expression of the statue before her. It was a smaller spirit; a monkey, she thought? It’s teeth were bared, and in its eyes, rubies shone like the heart of flame. Around it’s torso, a wrap of cloth twisted, torn, aggression in every expression. The ambassador wondered bitterly if this angry spirit was one of the Fire Lord’s personal favorites. 

Before it, a mostly empty incense holder sat devoid of spark. As she kneeled to show the respect a spirit would in fact deserve- obviously the spirit would deserve respect, as it had a shrine dedicated for it - she plucked a stick of incense. She searched around for a match stone, but found that there was none nearby. Firebenders. Of course. They wouldn’t need one. Sighing, she struck it against the stone the idol rested upon. It blazed before falling into a gentle wisp of smoke. 

Placing it before the statue, she bowed once more, thanking the spirit for the small sanctuary she hid in, amongst a nation of stubborn, hard-headed, ignorant men who could see the need that their people had, if their own heads weren’t stuck so far up their own a--

“There you are.”

Eyes blazing, she rounded on him. 

“What do you want, Zuko?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Or is it Fire Lord now?”

He raised his open palms placatingly, before stepping into the small hedge enclave. 

“I’m not here to fight, Katara.”

“Then what are you here for?” Her voice gave no quarter.

“I - I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?!” Her voice rose an octave and a decibel. “Sorry to me? Or to the poor of Jai Hong?”

“Katara, I want to be able to help. I really do, but--”

“But nothing! You know, Gran Gran has this phrase about the word ‘but’. She says that when you hear someone say that they want to do something then follow it with a ‘but’ listen to the second half - that’s what they really want to say.”

His eyes squinted in frustration. “What do you want me to say, Katara? That I should agree with you every step? Fall into line with an ambassador from a foreign country? One who knows my culture only from fighting it?”

“No!” She turned away, eyes flashing. “No! I expect you to actually listen to your friend!” 

“So the only way I’m right is if _you’re_ right? Is that what you mean?!” He refused to let her turn away, slipping a hand into the crook of her arm, his grip locking her from leaving. 

Blue eyes shot daggers as they looked down at the offending hand. Zuko refused to move it. He tried to catch her gaze, tried to have her meet his eye. When she finally did, there was a look of disgust he never expected to see from her again. 

“No, Zuko,” Her voice was soft, but fury laced it, fanning the flames of her ire, and with each word her volume increased. “No, I don’t have to be right! Ugh! Why can’t you just get it?!”

“Get what?!”

“Shush!” A quiet but firm voice cut through their argument, and both turned to glare at its source. 

The older gardener stood at the entrance to the alcove, staring daggers at the young woman. “This is a place of serenity and divinity, _ma’am_ ,” the tone in his voice belied his forced propriety, “show the respect it is due! You people may not understand it like we do, but around here, we respect the deities.”

Zuko turned back to her, and instantly released her arm as if scalded. The look in her eye was murderous, and he was not going to turn her infuriated attention back to him. “ _Excuse_ me?!” 

With two long strides, she stood nose to nose with the impudent older man. “Do not shush me, and spare him!!” An angry finger jabbed towards the now bemused Fire Lord.

The older man’s gaze shot back and forth between the two, almost pleading with the younger man. Zuko pointedly ignored the beseeching expression. 

“B - but he’s the Fire Lord…” the man stumbled out.

“No! No, that is _not_ going to fly!! Just because I’m a woman, a foreigner, you think you have the freedom to push me around, to command me!” Blue eyes glinted hard like gems. “Begone! Go!”

Like a startled deer-fox, the groundskeeper fled from before her. She let out an exasperated cry, flinging her hands up in the air. Zuko watched with contained amusement, fondly observing the small hairs that broke free of her updo and flitted in the wind, the icy chill that seemed to huff out on her exhale, the heaving breath at her chest. There were scrolls that were written, telling of the beauty of a woman’s righteous indignation. A flush of the cheeks, the rise and fall of rushed breath, the sweat that would bead on their forehead. Zuko was slightly ashamed to admit having read a few of those scrolls from his mother’s collection. When he would see Mai angry, back before she followed Ty Lee to Kyoshi, he saw the composed rage of a woman, much like the ones he had read about.

Katara, however, was not that woman. 

Her fury was not graceful and appealing. Her cheeks were red, flustered and puffed. Her breath came more as a pant, her words bellowing out, taking the wind from her lungs. There was no gentle bead of sweat, no soft roll down her cheek. No, her hair clung to her face as it contorted, sticking to the sheen that alighted across her skin. 

No, Katara was not grace--

\-- but she was beauty in power.

He couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged at his lips. Zuko wished that he could give her everything she wished for- every project funded, each charity bolstered- but he was not above his own council, and she was still a foreigner. At least for the time being, he hoped. He rested a gentle hand on her elbow, hardly more than a brush of fingers at the crease.

She turned like a pygmy panther. 

“What is it?” Her words, though not as caustic as to the impudent gardner, were sharp. “What are you laughing at?”

The chuckle that had hid in the corners of his lips escaped as he spoke. “You.”

She bristled, but he ran the hand at her elbow gently up and down, tracing delicate patterns lightly across her skin. 

“You never do back down, do you?” The gold in his eyes caught in the dying sunlight. “You know that’s something I’ve always admired, right?”

A huff escaped her, and her arms crossed over her chest. He moved before her, hands now lightly at her arms, the same smile still pulling at his lips. 

“Tell me, Katara, what is it that I don’t get?”

Defiant blue eyes met his, but faltered under them. Slowly, she unraveled, moving to wrap her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. He held her close as she sighed.

“I’m so used to how home works; how the Southern Water Tribe works, Zuko. If there’s a need in any of the villages, everyone is expected to pitch together, to make sure that the whole tribe survives. It’s not village versus village, jockeying for position. It’s Water Tribe. There’s nothing more, because there doesn’t need to be. _As one, we survive._ ” Her last words, a quote from her childhood, she spoke them with a practiced air before sagging against him. “I’m just not used to this…” 

“How many years have you been at this now, Ambassador?”

“Long enough to know better.” Her voice was muffled in his chest, and a wry smile pulled at his lip.

“I’m sorry, Katara. I’m sorry for allowing it to escalate.” Head dipping, he buried his nose into her softly scented, mussed hair, feeling the beginnings of a frown between his brows. 

“No, Zuko, we both were being stubborn. If I had stopped and listened…” The frown disappeared at her words, and she raised her head from his chest. “Aren’t we a pair?”

His hand brushed at her cheek, a soft expression on his face. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She fell silent, turning her cheek into his palm, her eyes closing. She smiled softly, all thoughts of frustration slipping away under his touch. 

“I can see if they’ll allot some materials- food, building materials, and the like. I just can’t budge the council financially. They aren’t completely wrong; there have been a lot of natural disasters this year…”

She nodded, her eyes still closed at his touch. “I’ll go and help with the sick and head the rebuild.”

His thumb stilled at the apple of her cheek. “That could take months, Katara.”

“Then it does.” Blue eyes lazily opened, a hint of a challenge behind them.

Instead of rising to it, he bowed his head, resting his forehead against her. His sigh was deep, and she felt a slight pang of remorse. He would never stop her, she knew, but every time she left, he was alone against the mob that was called his council. There was no doubt that he could reign them in, keep them to task, but when she would return, she would find a new line trying to form on his face. It would take days to smooth it, depending on how long she was away. 

Her eyes studied his face, memorizing his features like she had hundreds of times before. As much as he would miss her, she would miss him equally so. 

“Hurry back to me, my love.” His words were like smoke, soft and curling around her. 

“Always.”

“And maybe,” he leaned back, but snagged her hand from around his waist, bringing it to his lips, “when you return,” a gentle brush of lips on her knuckle sent a shiver down her spine, “we can talk about some more… _permanent_ living arrangements for the Ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe.”

His molten eyes flicked up to hers, a hungry glint in them. Her lips curled deviously, and she pressed once more into his space. She freed her other hand to curl it into the soft hairs at his neck. Using her new leverage, she guided his lips to hers, stopping just a hair's breadth away. 

“Would they be closer to you?” Her whispered words brushed his lips as she spoke, and she felt the shiver run down his spine.

“Much closer.” The growl was in his voice, and it was her turn to shiver.

“Good.”

Neither was certain who moved first, but as they crashed together, they found they didn’t really care. As he spilled her to the ground with the reverence belonging only to the spirits, abstractly she considered the old gardener. If he hadn’t taken her direction to leave, she was certain by the way with which Zuko’s hands were tearing at her wrap, and the way in which his teeth were sinking into the soft flesh where her neck sloped into her shoulder, that he would be shortly. 

There was no way she was going to be quiet, and honestly? She was as pent up, full of unused emotion, as he was. She doubted he would be quiet either. 

* * *

Her assumption had been correct, as they both laid spent upon the grass. As he peppered her revealed skin with tender kisses, shudders coaxed through her body, and she sighed deeply. Tan fingers combed through the inky black of his hair, and he hummed appreciatively into her skin. Lazy blue eyes took in the purpled sky as the stars began to alight. A glint of red caught her attention and she tilted her head to follow it.

The ruby gaze of the monkey spirit seemed almost to glow, and she felt a strange blush pink her skin. 

“Zuko?” Her voice was soft, hesitant. 

He hummed against the supple skin of her hip, his ministrations moving steadily southwards again.

“Um…” the nervousness in her voice stilled him, his head snapping up. 

“Katara?” Worry etched into his face, hands frozen. 

The blush that was already on her cheeks deepened and spread. A tentative giggle escaped her, and she brushed his hair back from his face, trying to soothe him.

“You’re okay, it’s not you.” He started to ease at her words, but kept still. Another smile thrown his way, but he did little more than offer a small one back. She dropped her head back down to the grass, kicking herself for feeling so uncomfortable. “Forget it.”

“What is it, Katara?”

“It’s something silly.”

“What?”

The hand not carding through his hair rose to point at the statue of the spirit before them. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled self consciously. “I was always taught that the statues of spirits were used as conduits for their gaze on the world.”

His face grew mischievous. As he dropped his lips back down to her skin, his eyes never left hers. He spoke between the kisses. 

“I wouldn’t be too concerned, Katara,” a peck at the top of her hip bone, “I don’t think,” a brush of lips at the side of her hip, “that spirit,” a slight nip at the top of soft swell of her thigh, “is going to mind.”

Her mind had grown foggy under his touch, and her fingers gripped into his hair. Forcing herself to think again, she met his intense gaze. 

“Why?” She breathed out, only minimally curious any more. 

“That’s Jonetsu.” His breath wisped over her freshly moistened skin, even as his fingers traced the line of her side gently. “The spirit of passion.”

“ _Oh_.” The word that escaped her was both in understanding and the things his hands had now found to do. “Then it’s okay then.” 

He chuckled against the planes of her stomach. 

“I thought it was an angry spirit.” She let out a small laugh. “When I was upset, I may have considered that it would be your favorite.”

“Mm. Well, you’re right about one thing.” He let out a long, warm breath that he ran up her body till he hovered completely over her once more. “It is definitely my favorite.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that was fun.... XD 
> 
> This has been one of my favorite quotes since I saw the movie lo so many moons ago. I hope I gave the quote it's due to justice.


End file.
